signed, sealed, delivered (i'm yours)
by cursedhazel
Summary: "your family's Christmas card has ended up in my mailbox for the past three years, and this year, i've finally decided to write back and tell you. for some reason, i didn't expect you to respond." or, in which Annabeth and Percy are strangers who meet by chance, fate, and maybe a little bit of Christmas magic. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Part 1: Signed**

Annabeth turns the corner into her office with a cup of hot chocolate warm in her hand, and her purse clutched in the other. It's early enough in the morning for the clicking of her heels to echo around the room - it's a satisfying sound, but the lack of bodies only made the building colder than the 40-degree weather usually permitted. She draws her pea coat tighter. Suddenly, she notices the potent stench of vanilla candle wax melting in the air; she has to refrain from scrunching her nose in fear of creating premature wrinkles.

Her assistant, Leo, sits perched behind his computer, absentmindedly tapping his spacebar as he plays the 'no network connection' dinosaur game. Or, that's what Annabeth is guessing. She rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her drink.

At the sight of her, he sweeps a stack of papers into his arms, the gust of wind putting out the candle burning on his desk. "Good morning, Ms. Chase," he says, tripping over his pant leg as he rushes to fall into step beside her. "Boss wanted me to give her feedback back to you. She also made sure to tell me to tell you that your plan for the, um, Gentry mansion was superb."

Annabeth turns to Leo with a raised blonde eyebrow. "Superb? I've never heard my mother compliment any work I've ever done."

Leo shrugs his narrow shoulders, which, dressed in a baggy white button-up, only made him look frailer. "Maybe she's trying something new?"

Annabeth scoffs and sets her drink onto her desk's coaster, shedding her jacket. "I highly doubt that. But thank you, Leo. I appreciate it."

She and Leo had known each other for nearing a decade now - they'd been in the same engineering class her senior year (his sophomore), and she'd always taken a liking to the way he transformed little objects into widgets like he could weld with his fingers. It was hardly a surprise to her when he interviewed for a position there four years ago; he scored the job and quickly worked his way up in the company. In all honesty, she felt wrong calling him her "assistant," as she didn't think she was of that much importance in the company, and he definitely deserved a higher title for the work he did. She unofficially labeled him her "creative partner," which better fit him anyway.

Leo, the tips of his elvish ears pink, places the papers onto Annabeth's desk before he ducks his head. "Of course, Anna- er, Ms. Chase."

Annabeth sits down in her leather office chair and crosses one leg over the other. "Leo, we've been friends since high school. Please, call me Annabeth. I'm not my mother."

A small, cheeky grin spreads onto Leo's face, and he leans one hand onto her desk. Annabeth narrows her eyes at him, and he immediately pulls it away. "Thanks, Beth."

"It's Annabeth, or you die."

Leo's eyes widen, but his apologies are quickly cut off by Annabeth's laughter. She reaches under her desk to turn on her computer. "Right," Leo says, slinking back toward his space in the corner of the room. "Annabeth. Got it."

Annabeth refrains from doing finger guns as she reaches over to take another sip of her hot chocolate; her mother recently went on her yearly Noel Diet Tirade in the office, and this year, that meant banning caffeine in the office. Annabeth didn't see how that benefitted anybody - her employees were zombies by 2 o'clock if they hadn't had the mind to down two tall Americanos before they clocked in. Annabeth, who quit cold turkey about a month ago, was slowly replacing her addiction with hot chocolate, and she may have gained a pound or two, but she was convincing herself she got the same amount of energy from both drinks.

Walking into her local Starbucks every morning was torture.

Annabeth is sketching in one of her notebooks when there's a knock on her door frame. Annabeth glances up to see Jason Grace, her mother's favorite employee, sporting a Santa hat atop his bright blond hair, smiling wide like it wasn't 8 in the morning. He steps into her office, smoothing the front of his tie. "Merry Christmas to my two favorite coworkers," he says, reaching over Leo's computer monitor to offer a fist bump. Leo, whose head is only being held up by his hand, accepts - the caffeine withdrawal had hit him harder than Annabeth. "How are you guys?"

"Tired," Leo responds through a yawn as Annabeth sticks her pencil into the top of her bun. The sketch is not at all to scale, but it helped her generate the final ideas on her current project. When Athena assigned her to do the blueprints for the Jupiter Homeless Center in Queens, she had gotten the basics down easily: sturdy foundation, several floors, a hearth-styled heating system that would provide a homey feel. Construction for the site began almost three months ago, and was set to open by Christmas day.

Seeing as this was Annabeth's first big project she got to personally oversee, Athena was practically breathing down her neck about every last detail.

Jason hovers over Annabeth's computer screen and clears his throat. Annabeth blows a stray chunk of hair from her cheek. "Isn't it too early for 'Merry Christmas'?" she says, clicking her nails against her notepad. "It's barely December."

Jason pushes up his glasses and leans against her desk, and Annabeth could smell his pine-scented cologne from the chair she's reclining into. "Which is exactly why Merry Christmas is a perfectly valid greeting."

And from the looks outside of Annabeth's office window, all of New York would have to agree - lights were strung up on most, if not every surrounding building, and wreaths adorned the doors of every such establishment. She glares holes into the side of her holiday Starbucks cup.

.

"I guess," she says, moving to her computer and subconsciously hovering her mouse over the refresh button on her G-mail page. "Though, I believe Happy Holidays is the more politically correct term."

Jason turns a stark shade of bubble gum pink, and Annabeth rubs her ruby red lips together. "Oh. Yeah. I remember Piper telling me that."

"Forever the woke queen we don't deserve," Leo pipes up from the corner, raising his fist in the air. Annabeth's almost convinced he was sleeptalking. "Give her a kiss for me, won't you?"

Jason only turns more scarlet, and he squints at Leo before turning back to Annabeth. "Whatever. That's not what I came here for. I was being a little nosy when I was in Athena's office this morning, and I wanted to ask you if you saw what she commented about on your latest print of the homeless center."

Annabeth, grimacing, nods her head. From her mother, it wasn't the worst note she'd ever gotten - once, when she was first starting out, she'd gotten a big red X marked through her suggestions for an apartment complex. But what could Annabeth do with "I want to see more?" See more what?

"What about it?" Annabeth asks, massaging her temple. "Could you crack her code?"

Jason makes a face, and Annabeth can feel the dread in her stomach beginning to set - or maybe it was the hot chocolate. Jason was often blunt in his delivery, so his reluctance worried her. "Kind of. She had written something similar on one of my projects, and after the longest guessing game of my life, I think she meant that she wants to see more… personality or uniqueness added into it."

Annabeth arches both of her eyebrows, and he shrugs. Of all the bullshit she's gotten from her mother over the last six years of working at the Olympic Architecture Firm, Athena decided she wanted Annabeth to put more _personality_ into a building that was due to open in a _month_? Had the woman finally lost it? She means, with the coffee ban, the idea wasn't unlikely.

"Couldn't she have said that instead of going all Tyra Banks vague on us?"

Jason twirls one of Annabeth's pens between his fingers, but Annabeth didn't have the mind to reprimand him for it. "She's your mother, Annabeth. You should talk to her."

With that, he leaves her office, Santa hat slightly lopsided on his head. Leo snores loudly at his desk, drooling onto his keyboard.

It's several minutes later when she realizes he still had the pen in his hand. Part of her wants to think that it was some sort of clever ruse to steal her stationary, but she knew Jason better than that.

Annabeth had poured everything she had into Jupiter - she couldn't take six months of work back and spit something back out before Christmas.

Suddenly, she wants to join Leo in that nap.

Annabeth arrives at her home sometime past 8 pm, and she immediately rips off her stupidly high red heels. The dress code her mother set for the office was ridiculous - the pencil skirt molded to her thighs was constricting enough, but to add heels to injury only made her want to strip the moment she stepped foot in her house.

Which she did.

The warmth of the shower runs over the curves of her body, soothing her qualms towards her mother in the back of her mind and clearing the sinuses she could feel beginning to clog up in the New York winter. Annabeth loathed the cold weather - born in California, she preferred the rays of sunshine caressing her skin to the harsh when that chapped her lips the moment she stepped outside.

The winter almost always meant cold season for her. She had stocked up on Vitamin C to prevent it the best she could.

The steam curls from her curtains. As she massages shampoo into her hair, a small part of her begins to image they're her lover's hands and not her own. She kids herself, of course. As a 28-year-old woman with a demanding, competitive job, she had no time for the allure of romance. She reckons that it would be nice, and nobody wanted to be alone for the holidays, but the idea was unrealistic.

But the thought still teases her.

She had her own hoodies to keep her warm.

She steps out of the shower and onto her plush bath mat, tugging a towel around her figure. She picks up her phone on her counter as she waits for the conditioner to set in her hair; her notifications are barren, aside from a few Pinterest notifications and an email from some petition website. At one point, she'd considered downloading some dating app, but she lived in Manhattan, New York. Any guy around was gross, and if they weren't gross, they were taken.

She was married to her work, she tells herself.

It was a rocky relationship.

Deciding to work with her mother fresh out of college, at the ripe age of 22, seemed like a good idea at first - she was basically guaranteed job security for the rest of her life in a profession she loved. She made friends, her mom provided a guiding hand, and while the need to prove herself was arguably more prevalent now her mom was her boss, she found the challenge rewarding. But as the years came and went, and as she poured herself into every project she was given, Annabeth began to feel drained. She struggled to get out of bed knowing she had a full day of nonstop work and no caffeine to run on (though, if she was running on minimum sleep, 5-hour Energies were her best friend.) She still loved architecture, and the appeal of seeing something she created being put into the physical world was still a great feeling.

But being crushed under the heel of her mother's boot sucked the joy out of her.

Happy Holidays indeed.

After Annabeth finishes combing out her blonde curls, she dresses in her warmest pajamas before she slips down to the mailroom. As someone with their name on several plans of the New York scene, her mailbox was the only thing getting any sort of action these days. It was often flooded with letters from possible clients, or bills, or her paycheck every few weeks, or, more recently, Christmas catalogs from various department stores; today was hardly any different. She flips her through her letters carelessly, mentally discarding the irrelevant ones and taking extra note of the Bath and Body Works coupons, when she suddenly comes upon a Christmas card.

Now, Annabeth wasn't a stranger to Christmas cards - her father made it a point to send her one of him and her twin brothers every year, but the picture of them was often stoic and professional, like one used for a business ID. Her brothers wore coordinating green and red sweaters, and his dad wore a part deep into his graying hair. Even the text that reads "Merry Christmas from the Chase Family" was a boring cursive.

But the card she holds between her fingers isn't from her family. In fact, the two people in the picture don't resemble her at all.

Her thumb runs over the faces of the smiling pair. One was an older woman with ash brown hair and wrinkled blue eyes, and the other was a man she guessed would be about her age, with messy black hair swept under a pair of reindeer antlers, his green eyes sparkling under the glow of the sun reflected off the snow underneath his feet. Between the two is a large black dog with a shiny red ball on its nose. Across the top, scrawled in what looked like Sharpie paint marker, was "Happy Holidays from the Jackson Clan!" along with some sticker snowmen and Christmas ornaments.

This wasn't the first time she'd received a card from this family.

Nor was it the second - this was the third straight year a card from the Jacksons had made its way into her mailbox, and to be honest, she secretly hoped they'd send her another. She presumed the two were mother and son - they had the same shape to their eyes, the same curve in their nose - and their closeness brought warmth to Annabeth's heart.

(Though Annabeth was physically close to her mother, she didn't feel any sort of connectedness - their relationship didn't extend past professional anymore.)

They were the only surprises she got for Christmas these days.

The first time she'd been sent a card, she'd written it off as an accident - there were plenty of times someone else's mail turned up in her inbox, but she found that it had been addressed to her apartment, and there was no name of who the real receiver was supposed to be.

She let the card sit on her coffee table and felt guilty for withholding someone else's holiday wish.

The second year, Annabeth thought the card a coincidence. Maybe their receiver had given them the wrong address or hadn't expressed concern when they were presumably the only person in their groups of friends/family to not receive a card. It was a shame, too. Last year's card was especially adorable, as it featured the mother-son duo racing in sleds down a snowy hill. Only feeling like a creep later, Annabeth stuck that one on her refrigerator. There was something about how the man's eyes alit with childlike wonder that made her grin.

But the third year, Annabeth thought, the third year was fate.

Annabeth didn't know if she actually entirely believed in fate or destiny - she prided herself in coming up with her own plan for her life and not becoming a prisoner to a predestined path. But it was the romantic in her that wanted to believe there was a reason she kept receiving cards from the Jacksons.

* * *

Percy struggled to keep his students under control with the semester break coming up, and while he wasn't one to raise his voice, he quickly realized nobody could possibly hear what he had to say over the noise.

Five years of teaching really helped him nail his disapproving head shake.

"Thank you," he says to his newly quiet class, who all avoided looking anywhere but him. "When I'm up here teaching, I expect respect. I'll give the same to you guys when you give it to me, alright?"

With their heads slumped, they all murmur varying degrees of "Yes, Mr. Jackson." Austin, the self-proclaimed class clown, simply blew air loudly from his nose, which, at this point, Percy would accept - that was some teenagers' way of silently surrendering.

With a small smile, he continues his review of marine ecosystems until the bell rings, in which he dismisses his class with a wave of his hand as he sinks into his desk chair. He rubs his palm over his face, suddenly feeling ten years older than his 29 years already made him feel. Though Percy truly loved teaching, even he was beginning to feel the "I wanna get the hell out of here" blues.

He glances up at the clock on his wall.

It was only the third period of the day.

Which was his conference period, luckily, or he might've absolutely lost it. The time frame between Thanksgiving Break and Christmas was the worst - he couldn't start and finish a new unit in two weeks, but it was too early to get into full test review. He'd only done the ecosystem lecture in case one of his supervisors walked in, or he'd otherwise have given them a study hall.

All Percy knew was he couldn't wait until the break.

He's about to stand when a stray student enters his classroom, clutching a notebook in her hand.

"Hey, Miranda," Percy says, sinking back down into his chair. He holds back a sigh. "What's up?"

Miranda's cheeks color as she approached his desk, tucking a chunk of light brown hair behind her ear. " I, uh," she says, putting her notebook down, "I finished last night's assignment. You didn't ask for it, and I didn't want to be that person that, like, reminds you during class, so I thought I'd just bring it to you now."

He mentally smacks his forehead. He knew he would forget something; while trying to quiet his class, he completely forgot about the assignment from last night. He slides her open notebook towards him.

"Oh, gosh, thanks. I guess everyone's a little off this time of year, huh?" He looks up at her with a smile. She lets out a nervous laugh as he marks a check on her notebook.

"Yeah. This is the hardest part of the year. Especially since I'm taking half a dozen AP classes."

Percy nods his head in agreement, and he slides over to his laptop to open up the grade book. "For sure." He scrolls to find her name. "And since you were the only student to turn the homework in today, I'll even give you a few extra points on the quiz tomorrow."

Miranda's face brightens. "Really? Thanks so much, Mr. Jackson."

"Of course. Have a good day, alright?"

"You too!" She backs towards the door, half tripping over her own shoe, and her face is bright red as she scurries out of his room.

"Kids get ten times worse by the semester's end," notes Ms. Dare, a fellow colleague, as he lowers himself onto the loveseat in the teachers' lounge. "They don't want to do any work, and I don't blame them for checking out, but like c'mon: it's an art class. You literally don't have to think about it. My Art 1 students, anyway."

Percy brings a hot mug of coffee to his lips and tries not to make a face as it sears his tongue. You'd think with all the coffee he drank, he would have learned to wait, but this cup of joe was the only thing keeping him going at this point. As a teacher, caffeine was his lifeblood.

He runs his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Yeah," he says with a slight lisp. "I guess it differs with grade-level too. My juniors have been slacking on their assignments hard, but a lot of them have a physics project due, so I'm cutting a little slack. I know I hated having a dozen projects due at once."

Ms. Dare purses her lips and nods her head as she picks a curly strand of red hair out of her many beaded necklaces. Over the past five years of working at Goode Academy, Rachel Dare had become a good friend of his, because she was young and kind, and she always had paint streaked across her forehead like Simba. Her students thought she was off her rocker (she definitely gave off a Professor Trelawney vibe, with the crystal ball in the corner of her room and palm line charts taped up onto her desk), but she was fun. The kids in his class loved her.

And for some time, Percy had thought he might've had... feelings of love for her as well.

It wasn't anything serious, of course; things would get weird if they ever ended on bad terms, but Percy had a crush on her for a solid year before he found out she was taking an oath to remain celibate for some reason she explained to him. He respected that. It crushed him at first, though. Their chaste kisses as they sat alone together in his classroom grading assignments and the lingering touches when she visited him during his conference period were over.

But it was in the past, and it didn't bother him anymore. He's pretty sure. Besides, they're good friends now, and Percy didn't want anything to ruin that.

"Oh, I did too."

Her emerald green eyes sparkled like the freckles on her face. Percy raises his mug to her and takes another drink.

"You know," Rachel says, smirking with purple lips, "I heard some junior girls in my class talking about you."

Percy squints his eyes. "Saying what? They don't hate me, do they? That's like, kind of a fear of mine."

"Oh, no, nothing like that. In fact, I think it's the complete opposite."

The smirk stays on her face, and for emphasis, she waggles her eyebrows. Percy only squints harder. "Meaning..."

Rachel rolls her eyes and sits up and twirls a piece of hair around her finger. "Do you have Mr. Jackson?" She puts on a higher-pitched voice. "He's like, the cutest ever. I just wanna like, touch his hair. And his butt. Have you seen his butt in those pants?"

Percy's face goes pink, and Rachel giggled, putting her hands back into her lap. He burrows into his seat.

"Oh. That's... embarrassing."

"I know. Imagine being there to hear it."

Percy slides back up in his chair, leaning forward. "They do realize I'm over ten years older than them, right?"

Rachel checks her watch and goes to stand. The third period was almost over, so Percy follows suit. "They realize, but they don't acknowledge it. That's the "allure," I guess. You're one of the younger few in the school, and you're a good teacher. Compared to like, Mrs. Dodds, you're practically a god to these kids. A father figure to some. We live in New York, Percy, and a lot of these kids don't even have dads. I guess they kind of mix up that feeling of being protected with attraction."

Downing the rest of his coffee, he places his mug in the sink and considers her words. He knew how it felt to grow up without a father figure in his life; by the time he actually had one, he was already 17-years-old. It was a goal for him to appear as a confidant for them.

But it didn't stop him from feeling uncomfortable that he knew that some of his students were attracted to him. It made him feel gross. They were kids.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he says, shoving a hand into his pocket. "I also don't wanna know who said that, but I think I might know who said that."

"And your guess is probably right, but I don't blame them." She leans around the back of him, letting out a low whistle. "You do have a cute butt."

Percy makes a conscious effort not to turn his back to his next class.

Was the semester over yet?

* * *

Annabeth let the letter sit on her desk for three days before she sent it.

Well, she had Leo send it. She knew she wouldn't even make it to the post office.

She didn't know why she was so scared to send it off. She hadn't said anything weird or offensive; if it came off as anything, it was probably creepy. But she never had this much anonymity when she addressed strangers. They didn't have any sort of personal contact; she didn't know their names, and she had only signed her initials; they were communicating the old-fashioned way.

Which made it both more exciting and nerve-wracking.

"How's your project going?" asks her friend Piper one day as they're waiting for their food to arrive.

"Which project?"

"The homeless shelter. Jason said it's coming along great, but he's also Jason."

Annabeth shakes her head and produces a small smile, twirling the straw in her water. "It's... fine. It's a shelter, alright, and it's a nice one. But... I don't know. Every since Mother pointed it out, it just feels like a building. Not a home."

Piper wrinkles her pierced nose, stroking the end of one of her braids. Piper worked at the animal shelter on Annabeth's block, so she was often coated in dog hair (which is why Annabeth bought her a lint roller for Christmas), but today, she had time to change before she met Annabeth for lunch. Her white blouse contrasts with her dark skin.

"You know, I could give you some ideas. I was in and out of shelters my entire life, and most of them felt like a prison. So I could definitely tell you what not to do."

When Annabeth met Piper, she'd been on the edge of aging out of the foster care system - she'd been in and out of it since her father passed away. To try to save up for an apartment, Piper had taken a job at Annabeth's favorite Mexican restaurant. Annabeth had gone in every day to order the tacos (she was hungry and consistent), Piper had interacted with her well enough to have them ready before Annabeth even arrived.

Obviously, they became fast friends.

Annabeth never felt sorry for Piper, and Piper appreciated that - she had hated the looks the homeless shelter attendees gave her when she needed a bed for the night. Annabeth didn't feel sorry that she was poor - she did anything she could to help her, which was way better than pity.

If Annabeth had anyone to consult over the project, Piper was her girl.

Piper offers a smile as the waiter comes over with their food. He sets a kale salad in front of Piper, and a basket of chili cheese fries in front of Annabeth. Her stomach grumbles.

It's been a stressful week, alright?

"I'll definitely take you up on that," Annabeth says, wiping cheese of the corner of her mouth. "Maybe that perspective will help."

She continues to gorge herself, sighing with every bite. With her mother's insane diet plans, every cheat day Annabeth could get was very much appreciated - maybe too appreciated. Piper stifles a giggle as she drizzles a vinaigrette over her leafy vegetables.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Greatly." Her words are stifled by the amount of food in her mouth.

It's been over a decade since she and Piper became friends, and with her, Annabeth could feel herself finally let go. She could never eat like this in front of anyone, not her coworkers, not her other friends, and especially not Athena Chase. For 17 years, Annabeth had to eat with a napkin in her lap and back completely straight. They had spoons specifically for soup. It drove Annabeth insane, not even being allowed to eat a chicken wing correctly.

Piper shoves a bit of kale into her open mouth. "Good. You need the fuel to brainstorm."

Annabeth swallows. "Yeah." She taps her fork against the edge of her near-empty basket. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

She swallows again but for a different reason this time. "I wrote a letter to a stranger."

Piper's next forkful stops halfway to her mouth. "You what?"

"I wrote a letter to a stranger."

"Okay, yeah, you said that. But like, why?"

Annabeth could feel her face redden, and she bites into another cheese fry. "Well, it's a kinda long story."

Piper checks her watch. "Well, you still got half an hour left of your lunch break."

Annabeth, suddenly feeling ridiculous, realizes she can't back out of telling her. "For the past three years, I've been receiving... Christmas cards from this family. The family is just a mother and son, and they're older - I think the son is probably in his mid-late twenties? And they just look so... happy and full of holiday spirit that I wanted to reach out to them, I guess."

For a few seconds, Piper doesn't respond, and it confirms Annabeth's insanity. But then, the corner of her lip turns up.

"You totally did it because you think the guy is cute."

Annabeth nearly chokes on her saliva. "What? No! I-it's not because of that!"

"You only thought to mention the man and not his mother."

"I was just giving you a gauge of how old they are."

"That's not what your bright red face says. You never blush, Annabeth Chase."

Annabeth huffs. "You... you just caught me off guard."

"You also don't stutter."

"Shut up!"

* * *

Having his mail delivered to him was highly inconvenient because almost every time he came home from work, his foot would land directly on the pile.

Or Mrs. O'Leary would get to it.

But she knew better than that.

"Shit," Percy says, picking up the letter on the floor that now had a wet boot print on it.

It had snowed in New York earlier that morning, and while he loved the snow, he hated the traffic that came with it. He lived too close to the school to take the train but too far to walk, and his car was a piece of shit he got from Beckendorf for not even a thousand bucks. Not only did he have to sit in unmoving traffic with a broken AC, but as he puttered down the street, he could feel the ride getting bumpier. He was lucky he even made it home.

Setting the letter on the table next to the door, he sheds his several coats, tossing them over the back of his sofa. His snow boots were heavy, and taking them off his feet was such a relief.

Mrs. O'Leary, who'd been resting on her dog bed by his small box TV, wags her tail at Percy before laying back down. He crouches down and scratches between her ears.

Percy had adopted Mrs. O'Leary about 3 years ago, and she's been the love of his life since. When he visited the shelter, she'd been days out from being put down - since she had been five, nobody wanted an older dog. The moment Percy saw her, he had fallen in love with those big brown eyes, and the two have been inseparable since.

And technically, he wasn't supposed to have a dog in the apartment, but his neighbors were kind enough not to snitch on him.

Percy passes the envelope on his table to enter his small kitchen with only enough space for his fridge and a stovetop. He opens the refrigerator (ducking down because he was much too tall for his own living space) and retrieves his leftover Chinese food, unfolding the box and slurping cold noodles from his fingers.

At almost 30-years-old, Percy had hoped for better than old chow mein and a one-bedroom apartment. When he started college, he'd picture his 30-year-old self with a big house, a wife, a dog, some kids. And well, he accomplished two of those things, if he counted his students as his "kids." Or Mrs. O'Leary.

But in all honesty, Percy doesn't think he would change a thing about he lived his life. Sure, a teacher's salary in Manhattan, New York City wasn't the best (or realistically liveable, for that matter), but teaching was his passion. It made him feel young again, and he knew he'd want to mentor kids like the many mentors he had in his life.

He just wished he had someone to come home to at the end of the day. Somebody that would tell him they were proud that wasn't his mom. Somebody he could cuddle with and, he doesn't know, kiss sometimes.

Because frankly, sloppy dog kisses weren't cutting it.

He'd finished his noodles, taken a shower, and graded several extra credit reviews by the time he remembered the piece of mail he stepped on earlier in the day. At first glance, he was sure it was a rent notice from his landlord, he didn't even bother opening it, and he almost remembered throwing it away.

But as he passes the table into his kitchen again, one thing catches his eye.

The letter is addressed to him, and it has a return address in small, cursive handwriting. The letters of his own address are a little smeared from his bootprint earlier, but he notices that where his name should be, "The Jackson Family" is written.

Curiously, he tears it open.

A folded, light blue sheet of blue paper flutters to the ground, and he snatches it out of the air before it gets there. He flips it open; it reads:

_To the Jackson family, _

_For the past 3 years, I have received a Christmas card from your family every December. I'm sure this is a mistake, as I don't think I've ever met a "Jackson" in my life, but I just wanted to let you know that they're very much appreciated. In fact, the cards are the only real Christmas presents I get these days. The rational part of me knows that you've simply made an error when writing the receiving address, and I also know that I should have probably let you know sooner, but now felt as good a time as ever. If you stop sending them, I understand. _

_Happy Holidays,_

_AC_

Percy pauses and scans the letter a few more times.

Then he promptly picks up his phone to call his mom.

Annabeth's overseeing the final construction of the shelter, wearing an orange hardhat, and a pair of black stilettos that crushed her left pinkie toe. Her face remains unmoving, however, as she balances a clipboard on her hip.

It was coming along, in her biased opinion. Nestled on the corner of 14th street, next to the subway stations, and it extended nearly 30 feet into the several. It's blended into the surrounding architecture, so it didn't stand out significantly, but Annabeth could spot the differences easily. In Leo's words, it had that "Annabeth Chase architectural spin thing," partially inspired by 1800s revival of Greek architecture with the stone pillar embedded into the corners of the building and the alternating stone bricks laying as the building foundation, minus their tendency to burn.

Annabeth steps over a pile of rubble and watches as the construction workers lay final bricks at the top of the structure, readjusting her sunglasses before adjusting the straps of her coat.

She's been out there for so long, she felt almost guilty for feeling _exhausted_ \- she'd done nothing but stand there and look pretty while Charles Beckendorf and his crew did all the heavy lifting. Standing on pointy little daggers hardly compared to operating hefty, moving machinery.

But it was almost all worth it seeing her creation come to life. It was the best part of the job, and it made her a little emotional. It was like raising a child, except... it was a building, and it wouldn't rely on you physically and financially for 18 years.

A black car pulls into the lot, and before Annabeth could go scold them, Leo steps out from the driver's seat in a puffy ski jacket. He approaches her, clutching a letter in his hand.

"I didn't know you got a new car," Annabeth says, pushing up her sunglasses. "It looks ni-"

"He wrote back," he says, interrupting and looking up at her with an excited glint in his eyes. He presents her the letter, and she takes it. "I don't know why it sent to your work address, but I think your home and work addresses or a little mixed up at the post office. I've come across _way_ too many Spencer's coupons in my time."

Annabeth sends a death glare that could melt the snow on the ground, but trades reveling in the fearful look in his eyes for the paper in her hand. The envelope is a little wrinkled, and the handwriting on the front is a bit sloppy but legible, she guesses.

Percy Jackson.

Glancing back once more to the construction above her, she walks to the edge of the yellow caution tape, running her finger under the glued flap. The paper she pulls out is lined and a little stained.

Why was her heart beating so quickly?

In all honesty, she hadn't been expecting him to write back. She might have expected his mom to write back maybe, or maybe not a response at all, but here it was. In her hands.

It reads:

_Dear AC,_

_Yeah, sorry about that. We've been meaning to send those cards to apt. __415_, _not 515. But... I'm glad you got some entertainment from them. My mom - who, in case you were wondering, I do not live with, I am 29 and fully independent - was super embarrassed to have given me the wrong address, but the cards didn't really go to waste, so she wasn't too upset. In fact, she was mostly curious as to who the mysterious receiver might be. As am I. Who are you, AC? What's your life like? Why do you not like Christmas? If you were Pandora's box, I would be... well, Pandora, I suppose. I'm being nosy, of course, but getting a random ass letter from a stranger on a Tuesday kind of warrants some answers. _

_I'd ask to keep the mysterious (and might I ask, subtly romantic) method of letter writing an on-going way of communication between us, but we both live in New York, and modern technology is a thing that exists. Why don't you just email me? I'd give you my number, but again, we are strangers. You could track my information through that or something._

_Sincerely, _

_pjackson18 (at gmail. com)_

* * *

**yeahhh i'm back again w/ the christmas story i (kinda) promised, and it's not a one-shot for once! part 2 will be (hopefully) saturday, and part 3 next wednesday, which is christmas day! and there may be a part 4, but i haven't gotten that far yet haha**

**until next time! ~ Aja :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2: Sealed**

The myth that teachers put on a movie because they didn't feel like giving out work was true, because Percy used that trick often this time of year; he'd stolen his mom's copy of the Polar Express to put on for class, and though they were all about 16, their eyes remained glued to the screen.

Which Percy was glad for, because he didn't feel like they were watching him obsessively click the refresh button on his email page.

He and Annabeth Chase - her anonymity had been revoked as soon as her first email popped into his notifications - had been messaging back and forth for a few days now, and it was almost pathetic how quickly he became addicted to that little ding his phone or computer made when a message from her landed in his inbox. He had to physically restrain himself from answering too quickly, like he was an actual high school student trying to keep somebody's attention. It was almost... exciting, he could say. He hadn't talked to anybody outside of work in months, if not years. He didn't have any friends that _weren't _teachers.

He was even lonelier than he thought he was.

On his dozenth refresh, he gets a new notification.

From: annabchase12

_It's funny that you ask about any projects, because I have a major one being built on 34th street. It's a homeless shelter, and it's actually been giving me quite a bit of trouble - well, my boss has been giving me the trouble, telling me I need to put more of myself into it. What does that even mean? Also, have I told you that my boss is my mother? Because she is. Talk about workplace drama._

_On another note, I told my friend about me emailing you. She thinks I'm insane, and that I'm gonna get, like, kidnapped or appear on the Investigation Discovery Channel, but if anything, my self awareness and even mentioning it to you kind of lowers my chance, right? And like, I don't trust you entirely, because I don't know you, but the chances of you being a psychopath are fairly slim. You send Christmas cards, for goodness' sake. Besides, what if I do get kidnapped? What's the worst that could happen? At least I get a break from work, right?_

_Was that weird? I'm sorry, I'm running on -4 hours of sleep. You're bound to get some weirdness. _

_On another, another note, what do you do for a living? I guess I was pretty open with my occupation, because complaining about it is my only personality trait, but you don't talk much about yourself at all. What are you like? What do you do? Do you like it? Are you at work right now? Are you actually working like I should be?_

_Sincerely,_

_Annabeth Chase._

After receiving her first email, she revealed that she was an architect at a firm on the other side of town, and she was a fairly successful one, at that. He had found her name attached to several sites around New York, let alone Manhattan, each structure more astounding than the next. He wondered how long she'd been in the business - to have so many projects all over New York, she had to be a well seasoned architect, 15, maybe 20 years.

He was also quite familiar with her newest project - the construction of it caused hellish traffic on 34th and added at least 20 minutes to his commute to and from work. Though, he'd rather suffer in traffic than take the subway everyday - the A-train was the only one that took him anywhere near the school, and it broke down more than Drew Tanaka when did she had failed her midterm.

There's a knock at his door, and he shuts his computer and stands up to answer it.

"Hey, Per- er, Mr. Jackson," says Mr. Underwood, leaning on his crutch. He smells like cafeteria enchiladas. "Can I talk to you outside?"

Nodding, Percy sticks a magnet in the doorframe and lets the door close behind him. He glances through the window one last time, and his kids are practically mesmerized by the dancing hot chocolate elves.

Percy leans against the wall opposite Grover and crosses his arms. "What's up?"

"I gonna ask if you were still coming to the Holiday Party Juniper's throwing next Tuesday. You're the only one who hasn't RSVPed."

Percy inwardly cringes. "Oh, yeah, sorry man. I'll be there. Just got a little... preoccupied."

Grover raises a bushy eyebrow. "Preoccupied? With what? Or, should I say, with who?"

Fighting the blush threatening to take over his face, Percy scoffs. "Nobody. It's just... the end of the school year. You know how busy that is."

Percy and Grover went to high school, and subsequently, college together - they were each other's oldest friend. They were practically brothers, no matter how different they were. Grover had gone to college on a National Merit Scholarship for his work with climate change organizations and fundraising for disabled kids below the poverty line. Percy only made it to college on a swimming scholarship, and seeing as he was nationally ranked, was practically carried on the shoulders of the board only caring about athletes and not those doing something beneficial to the world. People were surprised when both boys decided to major in secondary education, but Percy thought it was quite fitting. They both grew up "troubled," for lack of a better word. They wanted to help kids like them.

They'd even been so lucky to end up teaching at the same school - Grover had transferred school districts Percy's second year at the school, and Percy was glad to have another colleague other than Rachel he was close with, or he would've been completely enveloped into whatever chakra therapy Ms. Dare was trying this week.

Percy even teared up a little when Grover asked him to be the best man at his wedding last year. He'd do anything for his best friend.

Well, almost anything. And attending Juniper's Christmas Party was on the list of things he _wouldn't _want to do.

"Yeah, I get it," Grover since, punching Percy's arm. "I'll tell her you're still coming. Also, if I _am_ right, and there _is_ a who in your preoccupation… plus ones are very much so encouraged."

And there it is. Reason number one he was dreading this party: almost every one of Grover and Juniper's friends aside from Percy were couples. Nico Di Angelo and Will Solace. Frank Zhang and Hazel Levesque. Hell, even Thalia, his own cousin and her girlfriend Reyna Arellano were going. Percy just hopes that all the mistletoe mysteriously disappeared.

"Well, that's probably not gonna happen, but thanks. I'll be there, alright?"

Grover, unconvinced but reluctant, nods. The little curl on his forehead bounces. "Alright. Talk to you later,"

Percy waits till he's crutched at least halfway down the hall before he reenters his own classroom. He ignores the vape cloud billowing in the back corner.

Two more days.

* * *

After not shaving for two weeks, Percy's usual amount of stubble had turned into an unruly, grown out scruff situation. He called it his winter coat, like Mrs. O'Leary's extra thick fur.

But even that wasn't as itchy as the sweater his mother had knitted him.

Much like Molly Weasley and her children, his mother had sewn him, his stepdad, her, and his little sister matching green sweaters. And, much like Molly Weasley, they were made with love.

And with the scratchiest yarn possible.

He stands in front of the mirror, running his finger under his collar. The sleeves were a bit short - his mom had probably used his stepdad, Paul as a measure for Percy's sweater, but Percy was quite a bit taller than Paul was. Percy was just glad it was long enough; he wasn't how sure how well he could pull off a crop top.

"Are you almost done?" says his sister, Estelle, banging on his bathroom door. "Do you like it?"

Percy gives himself a toothy smile, sucking in a breath through his nose before he opens the door. "Yeah. I love it. It's great."

Estelle, wearing a sweater matching his and a ponytail in her curly brown hair, beams. "Good. I picked the color."

"The color's the best part!"

"I know," she says, stepping to the side so Percy can exit the bathroom. "It's kinda itchy, isn't it?"

"Oh, absolutely."

Estelle, who'd just started her winter break yesterday, had been begging to spend the night at Percy's place for at least the past six months before his mom caved. He just got his mom to leave a few minutes ago after promising her that yes, he would feed her, and provide a comfortable place to sleep, and would make sure she got to bed at a reasonable time. He didn't care much about the last part, though. Estelle was 12 now. Percy doesn't think he ever slept before 4 am when he was 12.

"Okay, I asked Dad, and he said the same thing. Either we're all allergic to this yarn, or Mom is like, touch blind."

Percy chuckles and follows his sister down the hall and into the kitchen, where she was dropped her purple back pack and gave him the sweater his mom requested she delivered to her older brother. On the counter lays the package of Pillsbury Christmas cookies and the box of hot chocolate mix he bought for their movie marathon.

"Probably both. Chances are, if both you and I are allergic to the yarn, we got it from her. If she didn't start scratching the second she picked the yarn, she's definitely touch blind."

Estelle giggles and hops onto the counter, tearing into the package of cookies. "Yeah. Also, would I get salmonella if I ate these raw?"

Being 17 when she was born, Percy wasn't entirely open to older brotherhood at first. Sure, his dad had other children - he and his mom were never officially together, he'd been married before Percy was born and continued to impregnate various women after - that Percy had met, but he didn't see them often. When his mom had gotten married to his old English teacher, and then subsequently gotten pregnant at 36, Percy was hesitant. Did he even like babies? He'd been an only child his whole life, and even though he was almost a legal adult when Estelle was born, he still lived at home when he went to college. Would he be constantly kept up by her crying?

But then she was born, and a new kind of love grew that he never knew existed.

He would've done anything to protect her; in another world, he's sure he would've killed for her.

But she soon proved that she didn't need protection. When she was 3, she had bitten a kid harassing her, and his mom could hardly reprimand her for it. She was a tornado in pink overalls, a tycoon with big blue eyes and gum stuck in her hair. Percy saw himself in Estelle, and he didn't know if it was a good or bad thing.

And while moving out and missing her grow up was hard, he'd see her and spoil her with saltwater taffy as often as he could.

Estelle sits on his couch, sifting through Netflix as Percy pulls the cookies out of the oven. Estelle had prepared the hot chocolate for them already - Percy doesn't know she made it so much better than he ever could. He plates the cookies and slides into the living room.

"Did you pick anything yet, Braceface?" Percy says, putting the cookies down on the table and flopping onto the sofa. "Or did you get your father's indecisiveness too?"

To maintain the sanctity of Percy being an only child for a significant part of his life, his mom sent out two versions of their family Christmas card each year - one with the entire family, and one with him, his mom, and this past year, Mrs. O'Leary. It was a crapshoot which family member got which card each year.

Estelle rolls her eyes and stuffs a hot cookie into her mouth. "Stop calling me Braceface," she says, muffled and scowling. "You don't hear me calling you Big Ears, eh?"

Percy stifles a grin she doesn't see. Estelle had gotten bright purple braces a few months ago, and what was a big brother for if he hadn't picked on her for it?

"Are my ears really that big?"

Estelle glances up at him, then to the sides of his face. "A little monkeyish. Also, we're watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas."

Thirty minutes and seven cookies later, a notification pops up on Percy's phone.

"Who's that?" Estelle pipes from her spot curled into the side of the sofa. Percy jumps; he thought she had been asleep. "Is that your girlfriend?"

The notification _is_ from Annabeth Chase. He clicks his phone off. "No. I don't have a girlfriend."

"Aren't you like, 29? Kinda sad the only girl in your life is your younger sister."

Percy flicks the bottom of her foot, and she yelps. "I'm just saying," she says. "Who is it though?"

He turns his phone back on and clicks on the notification. They hadn't talked in a few hours, and Percy was a little worried he'd scared her off when he mentioned he was a high school teacher, especially after being informed of her near 6-figure salary. Thankfully, he hadn't.

Before he can read past the subject ("Wow, Kids Suck"), Estelle snatches the phone from his hands. "Hey!" he shouts, but she's on the other side of the room before he can react.

"Ooh, who's Annabeth?" she says, hunching over the light of his phone. "I thought you said you didn't have a _girl_friend."

"Because I _don't_," Percy mocks in the same sing-songy voice. "I hardly even know her - it's complicated."

He supposes that it wasn't _that_ complicated, but he didn't feel like explaining himself to his kid sister. He gets up and crosses the room to stand over her, but she shrinks back. ""Dear Percy," Annabeth writes, "It's really _admirable _how you manage to take on a job so necessary in our society, yet so _monetarily unfulfilling_. From the way you talk about these kids, it seems like you love what you do - and really, that's what a dream job is."" Estelle sticks two fingers down her throat and pretends to gag. "Who writes like that? She's trying _way_ too hard. Almost like she's trying to, I don't know, impress you?"

Percy glowers, which is only met by a blown raspberry. He takes the phone back before she could read anymore. "You're nosy, you know that right?"

"I know. That's what I'm for." Estelle pops back up, grinning with her purple teeth, and skips back over to the sofa to promptly curl back into its side. Martha May Whovier glances seductively at the Grinch on screen. "To point out the obvious."

Percy weighs his phone in his hand, as it suddenly felt heavy. A deep sigh escapes his lungs. He means, even if had ever even slightly considered Annabeth someone worth pursuing in anyway, he had no idea how old Annabeth Chase even was. Her experience made her sound well past 50, and the way she wrote didn't convince him otherwise.

But they were only forming a friendship, so did it really matter?

It takes a minute or two for him to sit down again. Estelle pulls out her own phone and types for a minute or two before showing him the screen.

"Annabeth Chase from Manhattan, right?"

On her phone is Annabeth's Facebook page. Or, at least, he thinks it is; he had to squint from the brightness of her screen.

"As far as I know, yes."

Estelle pulls her phone back. "Well, as far as _I _know, she's 28 years old, blonde, and is _not_ in a relationship. And what do you know, she's pretty too."

She shows him her screen again, and on it is a picture of a young blonde woman in a pair of jeans and a Yankees baseball jersey, smiling with red lips, with her arm slung around a shorter woman with brown hair and dark skin. The picture dates two years ago.

"Oh," is the most Percy can muster. Estelle giggles, taking her phone back once again.

"So a successful woman your age is _emailing_ you, trying to impress you for some reason, and you're hanging out with me?"

So, when Percy had started this day, he didn't think he would be getting called out by his preteen-year-old sister. Estelle stares at him with a smirk too similar to his own.

But Annabeth was _really_ pretty; he wonders what she thought of him.

"I mean... I missed you, Stelle. Why wouldn't I hang with you?"

"Because there are other things you could be doing. You're not gonna be in your 20s for much longer." She nudges him with her toe. "Also, did you not think to look her up, like, at all?"

"I Googled her. But you know I don't do social media."

"So when her Facebook page popped up, you didn't think to click on it?"

"...No."

With an exaggerated sigh, she says, "We have to get you on Twitter at least."

Percy rolls his eyes. "And have my students try and find me? No thanks. Let's watch the movie, kid."

* * *

_Dear Annabeth,_

_It's officially the last day of Winter break! Haha!_

_But yeah, I'm officially free from my kids, at least. I still have a staff development meeting tomorrow, but hey, I have the next two weeks to lesson plan with my dog. Like a loser._

_Speaking of the next two weeks, isn't Christmas next Wednesday? Where did the time go? I hardly have any Christmas shopping done. I need to get on that. What do you get a 12-year-old girl these days? Knowing my sister she'd probably want, like, a shovel or something weird._

_Do you have any plans for Christmas? Mine consist of watching my dog - did I tell you her name was Mrs. O'Leary - open the presents I got her (meaning: watching her eat the wrapping paper), and eating discount sugar cookies until my stomach hurts, then going to my mom's and collect the many gifts I so rightfully deserve._

_Kidding! _

_Kind of._

_Also I've been meaning to mention this for a while, but emailing isn't at all the most convenient means of communication, and I know I said I didn't trust you initially, but I think there's enough of a friendly relationship going on for me to give you my phone number. So... text me, I guess._

_Sincerely, _

_Percy Jackson (xxx-xxx-xxxx)_

Annabeth tries to conceal the smile overtaking her face in fear of looking weird sitting by herself in the coffee shop. She'd agreed to meet Jason and Leo there - for bagels, because Athena's coffee ban was still raging - over text last night, and as usual, she was the first one there. She waits patiently, tapping her nail against the screen of her phone.

Should she text him now?

Maybe she shouldn't. He had only sent the email two minutes ago. Wouldn't that be too quick? What if she looked desperate?

Why did she care did she care if she looked desperate?

After a few weeks, Annabeth had taken a liking to Percy. He seemed nice, and funny, and didn't take himself too seriously, which, in the profession Annabeth worked in, was a serious relief. She found herself telling him things she wouldn't even tell Piper. Maybe it was the lack of personal contact that made talking to a stranger so much easier than admitting things in real life, but now he knew her favorite book and movie, her motivations in life, the things that made her tick and what got on her every nerve. She'd almost call him a friend.

Before she can drive herself anymore insane, Jason appears through the front doors of the coffee shop, wearing a plaid blue button up and a red Santa hat?

"You're really not gonna give that hat up, huh," Annabeth notes as Jason takes the seat next to her. "At least someone's in the holiday spirit."

Jason smiles his big grin, fixing the cuff of his sleeve. "If no one else will keep it alive, then I take it as my duty."

Laughing, Annabeth bites into her everything bagel - the risk of onion breath was a chance she was willing to take for something so delicious. "Right on, Jace."

Annabeth's relationship with Jason was a weird one, to say the least. They weren't close in the way you'd be close with your best friend, but they weren't so distant to be considered acquaintances either. Even the word "friend" didn't quite fit the bill - there was still that razor thin barrier between friendship and professionalism they had yet to break - it was strange how quickly she broke that barrier with Percy.

Jason was just so… she didn't know. Work oriented? Regal could've been the word in another life. He had a golden-child air about him, and Annabeth knew Athena had taken a liking to him for it. Sometimes Annabeth thought that Athena had wished Jason was her child instead - and with his blonde hair and lean stature, he could definitely play the part.

"Right on indeed," Jason says, pulling his laptop out of his bag. "Leo should be here in a few minutes. I'm 99% sure Leo forgot about the meaning until I told him."

And minutes later, there the man was as he hastens to take a seat in front of Jason and Annabeth, his hair a little more rough than normal. He adjusts his shirt collar.

"Sorry guys," Leo says, voice gruff. "Got a little… caught up."

If Annabeth squinted, she could make out a small hickey on his neck. She hides a smile behind a sip of water.

He didn't tell her explicitly, but between the constant phone notifications and the ever-increasing growth of his bed head, Leo now has a girlfriend. She was happy for him - he had a glow he'd never had before.

"No problem," Jason says, waving his hand dismissively. "We were just getting started, anyway."

Though she was the one to call for the meeting about the opening of the homeless shelter, she could hardly focus as words fell out of Jason's mouth. She kept drifting back to the email. He'd given her his number. Did that mean something? She felt 18 again, overthinking everything a boy did. She was probably deluding herself - they'd only been talking for a little over a week now. They didn't even really know each other, and if she saw him in a crowd, she doubts she'd be able to pick him out.

Turning her phone off, she shoves her phone in her purse, resting her head on her fist.

At a fall in the conversation, Annabeth jumps in like she's been paying attention the entire time. "One of my friends was asking if he could host a Christmas party at the shelter its opening day." She circles her finger around the rim of her drink. "He's like, an environmentalist, and he thought that it'd be killing two birds with one stone if we threw the party to celebrate and bring awareness to the opening of the shelter and his charity cause at the same time. Plus, his wife did the interior design work on Jupiter. I think that's only fitting."

Her friend had contacted her last week with the proposition, and while she was reluctant at first, she eventually came around to the idea. What better way to christen her first ever solo project than to celebrate its opening with New York. They decided it would be open for visitors from 1 pm to 6 pm, then closed to the public after 6:30 for the official Christmas party.

"I mean, if Athena says that okay… I don't see an issue with it."

After working out a few details, Leo and Jason agreed on a time, the official invites, the dress code, and catering before Annabeth left them to talk about their girlfriends or whatever guys in their late twenties talked about.

The minute she's out of sight, she saves Percy's phone number.

_Hey, it's Annabeth. And I promise I'm going to track your information._

* * *

**okay i updated wayyyy later than i wanted to - it's literally after both christmas and new year's day, but here's something. i had MAJOR writer's block, and it shows. i'll update before the end of next week, for sure. but i hope you like it! next part will be the last.**

**until next time ~ Aja :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Bonus Part 2.5: Sent**

**tw/ alcohol, drinking, and slightly mature content**

* * *

It's two days before Jupiter's opening, and the only thing helping with Annabeth's nerves was the old bottle of Hennessy in her cupboard.

And maybe drinking brown liquor in her living room at 2 o'clock in the morning wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism, but after a day of Athena breathing down her neck, and Juniper calling her crying because there was an issue with the central heating, numb was the only thing Annabeth _wanted_ to feel.

Rummaging through the junk drawer in her kitchen, the cool metal of an Eiffel Tower themed cork screw meet her warm fingers, and without a second thought, she shoves the point into the cork of the bottle. Soon, the glass she grabbed became useless as she drank from the bottle.

But, unfortunately, she'd forgotten what _other_ feelings alcohol made her feel: sad, angry, horny, irrational. And feeling a combination of all four at once was a recipe for disaster when she had unlimited minutes on her phone and nobody to take the bottle away from her. Fortunately, a sober her thought to drag the trash can from her bathroom into the living room in fear of ruining her good carpet.

Though she had nobody to maintain an image in front of, she tried her best to keep up some semblance of sobriety - for personal dignity, denial, she didn't know. She sat, stocking covered legs bent underneath her, on her tweed sofa, watching a rerun of the Golden Girls and trying not to sway (and trying not to laugh too heavily at her TV, though a few witchy cackles did escape her).

But by the end of one episode, she was splayed out on the floor crying hysterically between swigs.

If she did this any more often, she's sure she'd qualify as an alcoholic, but alcohol for Annabeth wasn't regular enough to be an addiction - ask her when she was 21 and she may have said otherwise, but it subdued at 28. She'd been saving the bottle for her New Year's Eve get together with Piper and Leo, but she convinced herself she had enough for another - tonight was her relief, and her mother gave her a half day for tomorrow, so she finds that she doesn't particularly care that she'd dribbling onto her pressed white blouse.

Half a bottle later, she eventually sits up against her couch, undoing her ponytail and letting her blonde tangles tumble over her shoulders. She wipes her mouth - the back of her hand smears with red lipstick. She puts the bottle on her side table, right next to her phone. Her fingers hover over the device.

She picks it up.

In a drunken state, the words on her phone blur, and pressing her thumb and forefinger against her temples before pushing her hair away from her face, she makes out the notification on her phone to be from either a Perry or a Percy.

"Oh," she hums, a lazy smile finding her lips and ignoring the salty tear running into the corner of her mouth. She clicks the notification, but the words are no more gibberish to her than Greek.

The laugh track of the TV show play in the background of her thoughts as she tries to comprehend his text. For some reason, her dyslexia flares when she's drunk - she thinks it's because of her lack of focus on what was trying to be said, or alcohol severely messed with her eyesight. She thinks she can make out the words "do you" and "Christmas" before her stomach stomach bubbles with a familiar feeling. Fumbling with the phone, she drops it and tears her panty hose in the knee as she crawls to the trash can.

Coming up for air and feeling the burn of stomach acid and alcohol in her throat, she groans loudly, running her hands down her face. Her phone buzzes with another message, but she kicks it away from her. It hits her TV stand.

She lays her head against the edge of the bin, and she weeps. She weeps an ugly, nose running, shirt soaking cry, pulling at her collar, feeling like she was suffocating. Why did she do this to herself? Any more, and this would become a serious problem. Would she seriously get blackout drunk by herself, alone in her apartment on a Sunday night? She was falling into a hole, and she knew it; whatever this was, she knew it wasn't normal. She _knew_ it wasn't. Glaring at the bottle, she felt more and more like her father, who'd black himself out anytime the twins stayed with their mother. She saw herself passed out in his reclining chair clutching a bottle in her hand. She saw her younger self crying over her father's body, thinking he was dead even though his snores were deep and heavy. She saw herself in his graying blond hair, in her tired away, in his withered and working hands.

Is that who she was going to be if she kept this up?

Maybe she should call in tomorrow. She could feel her brain being torn apart, and the drunk side of her brain was winning. This isn't what working should feel like. This isn't what 22-year-old Annabeth imagined her dream job would be. This isn't what she imagined being almost 30 would be like. She weaves her fingers in her hair and screams. It hurts more than puking did, but it makes her feel better in a twisted way. She just hoped her neighbors didn't call the police.

The sound of Christmas music carrying its soft tunes from next door suddenly stop, but this is New York. There were screams all the time.

As her nose turns scarlet from the furious wiping away of snot, she catches a faint, muffled, staticky sound coming from the other side of her room. She pauses for a second, loudly sniffling, and she's almost dissolved back into tears when there's a clear "Hello?"

She's immediately alert.

She glances around the room and falls forward onto her hands and knees, then to her feet, standing but not before stumbling a bit first. "Hellooo?" the deep voice says again. Maybe her brain really _was_ being torn apart. She's almost declared herself insane and signed herself up for an AA group before her eyes land on her phone, alit with an ongoing call.

Hesitating, she picks it up and brings it to her ear.

"Hello?" she asks, trying to sound as sober as possible (which, in hindsight, probably came across as the complete opposite). "Who is this?"

"Annabeth?" the voice says back to her. It's a man. "It's Percy Jackson. And I'm pretty sure you were the one that called me."

The voice on the phone is deep and a little raspy from it being 2:30 in the morning, and Annabeth heart thumps loudly in her chest. She stumbles onto the arm of her sofa and perches on the edge, jutting out her other arm to keep her from falling over.

"Uh," she says intelligently, sucking up the saliva that escaped her mouth, "I-I didn't mean to call you. That was an… accident."

And though it was the truth, she didn't even believe herself. She must've pressed the call button in her drunken stupor. She inwardly curses at herself.

"Are you okay? I mean… I didn't think you were the cursing type."

Or maybe she outwardly cursed herself. She groans again, falling backward onto her sofa. "Yeah, I'm fi-," she hiccups, hitting herself in the chest. "I'm fine."

There's some shuffling on the phone and after a few seconds, she can hear his voice more clearly, like he's sat up from bed. "You're slurring. Are you drunk? Do you need someone to come get you?"

"No!" she answers a little too quickly. Her hand flew to her mouth, and while the nausea quickly passed, her hand stays like she's trying to keep herself from speaking. "I'm at home. And I'm fine. I really, really didn't mean to call you."

Tears brim her eyes again, and they fall before she can brush them away. Her first ever time hearing his voice, and she's drunk. She stifled a sob.

At least he had a nice voice.

A kind, comforting one. And his accent was cute.

"It's okay," Percy says, with a chuckle lilting his voice. "Mistakes happen. Go to bed, Annabeth."

She shakes her head and sucks in a shaky breath. "I will. I'm sorry. I'm drunk and alone. I-I'm such a fuck-up. I'm sor-"

"Stop," Percy interrupts, and a chest-wrenching sob escapes her. The thumb swept under her eye comes away dark with mascara. "Don't say that. Listen, I may not know you very well, but from the Annabeth I know, you're _not_ a fuck-up. You hear me? Never say that about yourself. You're… you're literally amazing."

"You don't know that!" she screeches. She digs her nails into the palm not holding her phone she's sure she's drawn blood. "You have no idea who I am. You have no idea what I've done. Everything I've ever said could have been a lie, and you'd have no way to prove it."

The sigh on the line is so deep it sends a shiver down her spin and directly between her legs. A fire erupts under her skin.

"Annabeth," he says in a gravelly voice. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. "You're not yourself right now. You don't know what you're saying. What were you drinking?"

Her hand ran over her thigh. "Something from my cupboard. I… I thought it would relax me, but I went overboard and couldn't- couldn't stop. I-I'm such a mess, Percy."

She sounds whiny, and she knows it, but the edges of her vision were blurred, and she felt her conscious control slipping from her. She pulls up the edge of her skirt.

"You're not a mess. You're drunk. It'll be okay."

"H-how do you know that, Percy?"

There's a pause. Annabeth's heart thunders in her ears.

"I don't. But in the morning, it'll all be over. Just get a glass of water, and don't do anything stupid. Or, more stupid."

Annabeth drops her phone on her sofa cushion and presses the bottoms of her hands into her eye sockets, crying so heavily she can't breathe. She gulps for air like a fish out of water, ignoring the frantic calls of Percy over the phone. She's louder than the voices on her TV.

The only thing she hears is, "Do you want me to come over?" before she hangs up her phone and tosses it across the room. It smashes against a wall, making a thud sound so loud she can feel it in her chest.

Gods, did she feel stupid.

Maybe she deserved to feel like this.

She passes out on the couch after her sobs reduce back to sniffles, an arm and a leg hanging off the sofa, still wearing what she went to work in that day.

She would remember everything when she woke up, her memory triggered by the sight of the Hennessy on her table and her phone laying shattered on the ground. She'd drink the water bottle she forgot she set out for herself, trekking into the kitchen to swallow two Advil, and she'd call in for work for a vague reason she knew Leo would cover for her. She'd forgive herself, because she knew she had to, not because she wanted to. She would lock up her alcohol cabinet for good, though knowing where the key was wouldn't prevent much. And she'd ignore the dozen text messages and missed calls from Percy's numbers because she didn't want to _actually_ acknowledge what happened last night. She'd eat Ben and Jerry's and continue her Golden Girls marathon. She'd finish both in a day. She'd finish the day with a long bubble bath, using her favorite scented soap and favorite scented candle, using an expensive face mask. She'd shave _everything_. After all, the holiday party and Jupiter's opening would be tomorrow.

But now, she snores on the couch in a way that would form a crick in her neck. Her neighbors really do debate calling the police. So does Percy, but he knew how drunk people got. He knew she'd crash after her high.

But the present Annabeth just sleeps, as she's unaware of anything that has happened, is happening, and will happen.

Not even the sound of the ambulance driving by her house is enough to wake her.

* * *

**part 4 coming friday**

**until next time! ~ Aja**


	4. Chapter 4

**(FINAL) Part 3: Delivered**

* * *

This wasn't the first time Percy had woken up in the hospital, but he certainly hoped it was his last.

Thankfully, nothing _terrible_ had happened; though, when he got a phone call not even twenty minutes after Annabeth broke down to him over the phone, his mind immediately jumped to the worst.

His mom had fallen off her bed and concussed herself in the process.

Which, in many cases, _is_ terrible. A 48-year-old woman getting a concussion was bad, and in some cases, could be incredibly traumatic. Luckily, Paul had been with her to call 911 (a bit unnecessarily when he could've driven her himself, but his 2 am brain wasn't thinking) when her eyes couldn't stop crossing,

Percy had shown up to the hospital an hour after her arrival, and after having a semi-mental breakdown, clutching her hand and crying a tiny bit, he'd fallen asleep in the chair next to her bed.

He had a dream. It started in his classroom, like the start to many of his dreams, and he was sitting in his desk, grading papers (he couldn't tell you what they were about, but he remembered being frustrated by how _wrong_ they were). His mom and sister were sitting in the back of the room, and various students from various years of teaching kept approaching his desk and pestering him with questions. Normally, this wouldn't bother him.

But he was getting angry.

Like a burning, voice shaking, chest swelling _anger_. It was anger he felt with his first step dad when he hit his mom, an anger that shouldn't have applied to such a situation. At one point, Miranda, one of his students came up to his desk with her green notebook, leaning over his desk and smiling with bright white teeth, and all he saw was red.

He stood to take a breath and left his classroom before he could do something he would regret, though instead of the hall, he walked into an apartment. It almost looked like his own apartment, but the kitchen was in the wrong place, and the couch was an ugly shade of green, and it almost looked like the teacher's lounge. His dream self didn't notice. He stalked off to where his room would be, slamming open the door and stumbling upon a figure on his bed.

It was a woman with blonde curls and a baseball jersey, her body shaking. The open window cascaded a golden sunlight upon her, and like she was a magnet, he staggered towards her, his anger dissolving and replaced with a desperate longing, an ache to help.

In a second she turned to face him, black mascara tears trailing down her face. Every step he took seemed like it took him backward, or that she was moving farther away.

Suddenly, she was screaming.

They weren't words; just an endless noise, bloodcurdling. Red lipstick smeared around her mouth.

Then he woke up.

He groans, lifting his head from the crook in his shoulder. The sleep in the chair wasn't at all comfortable, but it left him drooling from what he could see by the saliva dripping onto his shirt. He pushes a hand through his bedhead.

The room smelled like a hospital, a mix of cheap soap, hand sanitizer, and alcohol. The walls were bright white and blue, the floor a speckled linoleum. The clock ticking on the wall across from him read 9:22.

He glanced to his mom laying in the bed next to him. The bandage wrapped around her head made him nauseous.

She did look peaceful, though. Sleeping, the wrinkles on her face smoothed and made her look ten years longer. Her graying brown hair was swept behind her ears. Her labored breaths were low and slow, and it calmed him down a bit.

He looks down at himself - at his flannel pajama pants, and his stained t-shirt from his time on his high school swim team, and his "jesus sandals" that were much too small for him, and his baggy Nike jacket. All he had with him was the phone in his pocket.

Which buzzes.

His Pavlovian response to the sound was to think of Annabeth texting him stupid things, like the lady she was yodeling across the street from her office, or telling him about her friends and how they got on her nerves, but when he checked his phone, it was just Grover asking him about his mom. He fired off a dismissive response and tucked his phone back in his pocket.

Today wouldn't go by fast enough.

Thirty minutes later, after Sally had woken up and Paul had arrived (he went home to watch Estelle while Percy stayed at the hospital), Percy was in his rickety little car, tottering down the street back to his old, cramped apartment. His hands clutched the steering wheel, at 10 and 2, his seat reclined and a 105 degree angle, slippered feet planted against the floor of his car. He felt like he was watching himself from the passenger's seat. He looked paler than he normally did. His eyes had bags he didn't know were possible.

Every one of his bones ached, and he suddenly realized how exhausted he actually was.

And how much each step up the stairs leading back to that old, cramped apartment actually took out of him.

And how as he took off each slipper, the cold of his floor didn't even shock him anymore

And how as he trekked to his actual bedroom and lay atop his polyester throw, he had gotten used to the sound of its creaking.

And how his life was so monotonous that even coming home from something so potentially traumatic, he couldn't feel anything but… numb.

And suddenly, he knew that's what Annabeth had felt last night.

His phone was in his hand and searching for her in his contacts before he knew what he was doing. He brought to his ear while the dial tone rang.

"_The number you have called is no longer available_," the automated voice says back to him.

* * *

To say that she was one for the dramatics was an understatement as Piper pulls up the layers of green tulle billowing around her hips. The bodice of her dress fit snugly to her chest, following the shape of her waist before bursting into a floor length cloud of sheer seafoam green. The golden pins in her hair hold back thick braids finishing at the nape of her neck, complemented by the gold dusted on her high cheekbones and the golden shimmer in her coral lipstick: she looked like a bronze goddess, and Annabeth was a little jealous.

Especially when she saw the way Jason watched her as she descended down those stairs, one heel at a time. He'd finally ditched the Santa hat in exchange for a combed, neat look in combination with a pressed black blazer and a pair of slacks, shiny leather loafers, and a green tie that sat snugly around his neck. He looked handsome, Annabeth thought.

And just by the look in his eye and the slight gap between his lips, she could tell her thought more of the same with Piper.

"How do I look?" Piper asks, twirling a little with a cheeky smile. "Red carpet ready or what?"

The glasses he wore slipped down his nose, and he quickly fixed them, pink. "You look… great. Fantastic. Amazing. Terrif-"

"Could you come up with any more adjectives?" Annabeth asks, crossing her clutch purse across her chest. "You look absolutely stunning, Piper. And you're not bad either, Jace."

Piper smiles and reaches to place a hand on Jason's shoulder, holding herself close to him. "You look do quite fantastic yourself, Mr. Grace," she says, leaning in to peck him on the lips. His hand dropped to her waist, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "And don't worry: there will be more of that later."

And before she could pull back completely, Jason steals another kiss that lasts several seconds too long for Annabeth's comfort, so she clears her throat loudly.

"I'm here too, you know," Annabeth says before glancing down at her watch. "And we should leave soon if we don't want to be late."

Annabeth agreed to get ready at Piper's house that morning when the woman had called her in distress about how she should do her makeup. Instead of consoling her over the phone, Annabeth figured that she needed a bit of interaction after a day of total isolation. And taking her mind off everything with the allure of playing dress up was the distraction she needed.

She didn't dare speak about the phone call. All evidence of it even happening was gone - she'd gotten a new phone earlier that morning, got a new number, and didn't bother transferring a certain contact. She thought it was for the best - he'd had to have hated her, or at the very least, thought she was a drunk who made up her whole story. Whatever they had, whatever connection they formed was over, and it was her fault. And she tried to tell herself she was okay with it.

But was she?

"Do you have to wear that thing?" Piper asks, stepping away from Jason, whose face fell. "It throws off this whole look I so graciously created for you."

Annabeth's dress was a lot less extravagant than Piper's considering _she_ was the architect of the building that was being christened, but she's rather die than draw any sort of attention to herself in this state of mind. Her dress was simple and black with sweetheart neckline, ending just above her knees. She wasn't even wearing heels - she was tall already, and being the tallest woman in the room brought unwanted attention, so she decided to wear a pair of flats.

Considering all of this, Annabeth didn't look _bad_. She let Piper dust dark eyeshadow over her eyelids ("It makes your eyes pop, I promise."), and she managed to smear her signature red lipstick over her lips. Her curly blonde hair was in a semi-natural state as it fell over her shoulders, and a dainty silver necklace settled against her collarbones. She felt… pretty. And in the fuzzy white coat encasing her shoulders, she almost felt sophisticated.

"I have to be able to maintain some sort of control over my life," Annabeth says, covering the smart watch on her wrist. "At least it matches."

Piper's fingers brush her arm - even with Piper in three-inch heels, they were just about the same height. "You need to learn to let go, Beth. It's a party. It's Christmas Eve. Just… forget about life for a second."

Instead of protesting, Annabeth gives Piper a tight smile and a nod that seems to satisfy her for the moment. She floats back over to hang on Jason's arm, and he leads the two girls out of the door, Annabeth making sure to stay several steps behind.

* * *

Percy wasn't entirely sure what "semi-formal" meant, but with a quick Google search and a YouTube video, he'd decided on a red button-up shirt and church slacks he hadn't worn since he was 17. He turned to Mrs. O'Leary for approval, but she bows her head and turns away.

So, because he didn't have anything else, he'll take that as a good sign.

He tries to comb his hair to look at least a little presentable, but any style other than what it was naturally felt stupid. He blew out a long breath and stared at himself in the mirror. Did he have any concealer? The bags under his eyes were _purple_. Why did everyone lie and say that acne got better when you got old? He had a spot promptly between his eyebrows. Was that something in his tooth? Maybe he shouldn't have begun his spinach health kick twenty minutes before he had to leave. Should he leave one or two buttons open? He thinks his belt is pulled too tight. Why did his pants bunch awkwardly around his crotch?

Maybe he shouldn't go.

It was Christmas Eve, and every December 24th for the past 28 years, he's stayed in and sipped virgin eggnog until he passed out. Was going out to see people so worth it?

But then Grover calls to tell him that he was here, and he doesn't have time to back out.

"Hey," Percy says, giving a grimace of a smile to his friend. Grover looked nice. His unruly, curly hair looked a little neater, and though his blazer was a little big, it was fine. He looked good.

"Hey yourself," Grover says, reversing out of the parking lot. "You look great, man. Is that a new cologne?"

Percy gives a heavy exhale through his nose, leaning back in his seat. "Yeah. An early Christmas present from myself." As they drive, the night time New York scene whizzes by them. He was starting to think that New York was too busy for him - as much as he loved his city, it was just so _much_. The lights that shone 24/7, the constant noise, the constant, disgusting smell. When he was 21, exploring the city by himself was his dream.

Now, it's one of his worst nightmares.

But moving away would never be a reality. His life was rooted in New York, in Manhattan: all his family, his friends, his work, his kids.

And other people.

Suddenly, the streets became even more familiar, and he quickly realized that they were en route to the school. Except, instead of skipping through 34th, Grover began to slow down.

"Hey, where's the party?" Percy questions, his heart rate picking up as he leans forward in his seat.

"I didn't tell you? It's at the Jupiter Homeless Shelter. Juniper did the interior design, and I'm friends with one of the building designers. I think she'll be here tonight, actually."

Percy swallows hard. "And what's the building designer's name?"

Grover stops in front of the building, though the entire curb is littered with cars. A yellow light glows from the several glass windows of the shelter, and the base of music playing pounds in Percy's ears. They each unbuckle their seat belts.

"Annabeth Chase. Remind me to introduce you to her."

* * *

Being inside the finished product was even more surreal to Annabeth than seeing its construction.

Not to sound full of herself (or of Juniper, the lovely interior designer), but seeing everything coming to life was… almost magical.

The bottom floor was a giant, open recreational space with a small reception in the front for purposes like checking in (though, tonight, it was for checking the guest list). While the place usually would have been filled with pool tables, couches, air hockey and shelves of toys, games, and books, tonight, they made use of the high ceilings and sweeping cedar wood floor to transform the place into something out of a movie.

Threaded among the sturdy wooden beams along the ceiling were garlands and tinsel glittering under the soft yellow lights. Tables covered in white and red linen outlined the room, each with a poinsettia centerpiece. In the back of the room was the hired DJ and his portable turntable setup, a makeshift bar, and miscellaneous servers waiting with trays of food.

Then there was the Christmas tree.

The "tree", if we're being accurate, was an 8 foot tall evergreen, covered in faux snow and pine cones, with dainty silver ornaments embedded within its branches. A giant red bow was tied at the top. Annabeth had no doubt Juniper had a hand in all of it - especially the pieces of mistletoe hanging in the doorway between the lobby and the main floor.

And Annabeth, for once, felt satisfied.

She enters the building one black flat after the other, shrugging off her coating and handing it to the attendant with a nod of her head. She felt like she should be wearing long white gloves and a feathery church hat. You know, for sophistication.

"This is beautiful, Annabeth," Jason says, tugging off his own coat as his eyes scanned the room. "I'll have to meet this Juniper girl."

As if on cue, Juniper totters from around the lobby's corner, wearing a shin length red dress that melded over her round stomach that her hands rest on. Her brown hair faded into an olive-green color and was swept over one shoulder. She looked like Christmas' reincarnate, and with the glow of pregnancy, she shone brighter than the Christmas lights.

"Speak of the devil," Annabeth says, gesturing toward the woman in question. "Though, this woman is more like an angel on Earth. Juniper, meet my friends, Jason Grace and Piper McLean."

As they get acquainted, Annabeth enters the room, feeling like she entered some Hallmark movie, and finally, she could feel the Christmas spirit.

Maybe she would have fun tonight.

The night progresses well past 7:00, and more people begin to show up. Annabeth's not sure why she was surprised; people had RSVPed, but there was still that small part of her that was worried that no one would show, like it was her 11th birthday all over again. They all look beautiful, with men in their suits and dress shirts, women in pretty dresses or jumpsuits, most looking nicer than her, but she didn't even mind much.

Annabeth spends most of her time at a table with Jason and Piper, though the other two spent more time on the dance floor than with her. She's content with that. She can see Leo talking with Calypso where she's sitting, though he's so intoxicated it looks like he's forgotten they were already dating.

Annabeth folds one leg over the other, resting her chin in her hand and feeding herself cocktail shrimp, sipping on a glass of water. For tonight, alcohol wasn't the smartest decision. She felt good enough sober, and her border alcoholic tendencies would never let her appreciate her own hard work.

As she sits and continues her people watching, she sees two figures approach from the corner of her eye. The first man she recognizes immediately, as she jumps up to tackle him in a hug,

"Grover!" she says, wrapping both arms around the back of his neck. He still smells like grass under all the cologne. "You're here! I missed you so much."

Grover chuckles the chuckle that kind of sounds like a goat bleat, pulling back to look at her. Annabeth thinks he's really grown into himself from all those years at summer camp; she means, he had a wife and was expecting a kid soon. He wore his curly hair cropped closer to his head and managed to riggle himself out of his beat up Asics from a pair of dress shoes. She can't help the wide smile growing on her mouth.

"Hey, Annabeth! You look beautiful, but I didn't expect any different."

She beams again, twirling the skirt of her dress a bit. "Thank you. Though, you should be paying all the compliments to Piper."

She subtly glances toward the dance floor, where Piper's head rests against Jason's chest, swaying to the croons of some Michael Buble song. Her heart melts a little.

"Of course. She really has an eye for that. But in the meantime, I have someone I want you to meet."

He turns to look behind him, but there's nobody there.

"Oh, he was just here. Give me a second."

Grover delves back into the crowd leaving Annabeth to stand there with her clutch between her fingers. People whirl around her, and she rocks back on her feet.

He's back soon, thankfully, with a tall man trailing slowly behind him.

"Found him," Grover says. "Annabeth, this is my work colleague and longtime friend, Percy Jackson. Percy, meet my other childhood friend, Annabeth Chase."

* * *

"He's _here_?" Piper says, eyes bugging, pointing her finger toward the floor. "Like, in this building?"

"Yes! Apparently, he's one of Grover's friends. You'd think things like this would come up earlier, you know?"

Annabeth paces the empty bathroom floor, biting the edge of her thumb nail. This night was supposed to be _good_, and calm, and drama _free_. The city was _huge; _what were the chances he would be at the same place she was at the same time, knowing the same people. She doesn't even think she's met her downstairs _neighbor_. Running into her mysterious pen pal she confessed her drunk feelings to wasn't something she ever considered being a possibility.

And yet, here he was.

In probably one of the most embarrassing moments in her life, Annabeth couldn't even begin to pretend she didn't know who Percy was. In fact, she couldn't say anything at all. She stood, mouth opening and closing like a fish, before she practically sprinted from him toward the bathroom, tearing a very confused Piper away from Jason, making her trip over the bottom of her dress.

"Why are you so stressed about this? I mean, didn't you want to meet him?"

Annabeth huffs, shifting the curl that fell across her forehead. "No! Not here, not now, and not ever."

"Do you mind me asking why?"

Annabeth pauses, sinking her teeth into her lip. She releases her clenched fist her fist and walks towards the mirror above the sink, wiping off the bit of my makeup that smeared in her anger. She was flushed redder than normal, but her lipstick had yet to fade. Slowly, she lets out a long breath. "I… I may or may not have called him when I was… intoxicated and screamed at him over the phone. Then blocked him the next morning. I also shattered my phone?"

She looks at Piper's reflection, and the reflection stares back. She can't help but notice the cringe beginning to warp her neatly threaded eyebrows. "Oh," is the most she can muster. Annabeth nods, tucking her chin to her chest.

"Yeah. It's still so fresh. It happened not even two days ago. So… I just can't face him. I don't want to ruin his night more than I already have."

Piper's mouth falls into a frown, and she reaches out to touch Annabeth's arm. "If we were ten years younger, I would totally tell you to go out there and face him like a woman, or to ignore the whole thing and have fun anyway, but we're almost 30. If you want to leave, I have no right to stop you."

Annabeth gives Piper a grateful look, tucking her clutch under her arm. "Thanks, Pipes. I'll just call an Uber. Golden Girls awaits for me at home."

Before leaving, she fixes a few pieces of hair in the mirror, rubbing some red off her teeth. So much for a party, but she's figured she's had enough with nobody to talk to. Talk about a mood killer.

"Was he cute, at least?"

Annabeth span around to look at Piper, and her face said it all. "_Cute_? Piper, he was _gorgeous_, and it was so unfair because in any other life, I would be all over that."

A teasing smirks pokes the corners of Piper's lips. "Does he have that blond hair, blue eyed thing you for some reason find attractive?"

"You act like your boyfriend isn't exactly that."

"That's different."

"Is it, though?"

"Yes," Piper says, crossing her arms. "But did he?"

Annabeth sighs again, though it's wistful one as she rests against the edge of the sink. "No. He has dark hair and these really bright green eyes that I could probably get lost in forever. And his smile was just like… I struggled to breathe just _looking_ at him. "

"Sounds like a real catch, huh?"

Annabeth looks down. "Yeah. And he's a good person, too. He's a teacher. He loves his students. He loves his dog, and his mom, and his little sister. He's been nothing but nice to me, and I've been the asshole."

It's silent in the restroom for a few moments, and without even looking back at Piper, Annabeth pushes open the door of the bathroom and re-enters the room, immediately consumed by the sounds of people and music. Her eyes swept over the crowd, but looking for him is no use.

Because he suddenly appears next to her.

"Oh my goodness," Annabeth exclaims, her hand flying to her chest. "You scared the shit out of me."

Seeing him in person was way more surreal than squinting at him through a tiny pixelated photo. He was an actual person with real flesh and bones and hair and teeth and eyes and ears. And he was standing right in front of her. It wasn't a fantasy hidden behind her phone screen anymore; there wasn't the anonymity she felt so brave behind. Looking up at him as the soft fluorescent lights bounced off the waves of his messy hair, she struggled not to feel small or curl away.

She couldn't hide anymore. He'd seen her in more ways than one - she had allowed herself to be vulnerable with him, to feel safe with him. Why would that have to change now that all the barriers between them had been shucked away?

Percy looks at her apologetically, his hand going to rub the back of his neck. "Uh, sorry," he says, looking toward the ground. "I saw you went into the restroom, and I waited here because I wanted to talk to you."

She immediately blushes, letting out a strangled and nervous giggle. She felt like she was in high school again, envisioning herself in her thick dorky glasses and tight ponytail talking to the boy every girl was in love with, knowing full well he'd never look at her like _that_.

"Oh. Well, I guess that's… yeah. We should talk."

She steps out of the way from a person heading toward the bathroom and sits on a bench just outside the hallway. He hesitantly sits beside her like she was a snake about to bite at any moment.

"Before you say anything," Annabeth begins, folding her hands in her lap, "I just wanted to say that nothing was your fault. It was mine completely, and if you absolutely hate me, that's 100% valid. I deserve it."

A look passes over Percy face. She could almost tell what he was thinking, like she'd known him for her whole life. And it doesn't surprise when he says, "Annabeth, I don't think I could ever hate you."

They make eye contact for several seconds, and as much as she wants to, she couldn't look away. How was she so lucky to have accidentally met someone like Percy Jackson? The look in his eye was so genuine it hurt.

"I… I don't think think I could ever hate you either. But what I did to you wasn't fair to you. I-I was just having a rough day - well, a rough every day, but that day in particular - and I didn't even mean to call you, but then you were there and I was afraid and alone and you… you were just so kind and caring and I couldn't _take_ it." She feels tears brimming her eyes and immediately felt stupid, looking down at her hands. "I'm really, really sorry I didn't call you to explain or apologize. I literally changed my number, and I figured it would be so much easier to avoid you virtually before I ever got to really know you, but I guess it's a small world after all."

She wipes away a tear when his fingers graze her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. His face melted into a kind smile, and his other hand reached over to squeeze hers.

"I forgive you," he says, pulling away as quickly as it ever happened. She instantly missed his touch. "I understand what you're going through."

Annabeth pushes a hand through her hair, completely ruin the neatness of her curls. "Do you really? Or are you just saying that to me feel like a less shitty person?"

There's an edge to her words and she knows it, but he doesn't even flinch. He'd known it would be coming - why wouldn't he? Talking to someone every hour of every day for almost three weeks, and you'd get to know that person better than you'd think. It's refreshing to meet someone who didn't take her every word for face value.

"I'm being honest. Annabeth-" he shifts in his seat so he's facing her more directly, "I'm a 29 year old high school teacher living alone with my dog in an apartment so small, I can stick my arms straight out and touch opposite walls. I live on a diet of bodega ham sandwiches and Chinese takeout if my mom doesn't forcefully inject herself into my eating habits like I'm still 12. I've spent every night by myself finishing lesson plans until I pass out. I haven't had an actual life since I finished college. Sometimes, I cuddle my pillow so I don't feel so alone at night. There hasn't been a day that passed in the past 7 or so years that hasn't felt like I'm living the same life over and over, like I'm stuck but the world keeps spinning. My mother was in the hospital this morning, Annabeth."

Her eyes search his face and her heart starts to stink.

"Percy, I'm so sorry-"

"You don't have to apologize. She's fine. But Annabeth." He reaches to take her hand again, and she lets him. She liked how his entire hand engulfed hers. It made her feel safe. "I felt almost nothing, and it was terrifying. Yes, I was scared and worried sick, but the second I knew she was fine, that one blip, that one change in my prophecy of monotony was over, life just reset itself onto that one straight path towards death. I've been so numb for so long. Yeah. I love my job, I love what I do for these kids, and I wouldn't change it if someone walked through those doors and offered me a million dollars tax free, but there's nothing new to look forward to anymore. I _know_ how you feel."

Annabeth had forgotten a long time ago how they were still at a party and that people were living their lives around them still. Her mind had blocked out all the noise. It was just Percy.

"Wow," is the most she can muster, her stomach doing gymnastics inside her. "You put it into words."

She had realized how they'd subconsciously gravitated more toward each other, but now her leg was pressed against his, and it was a burning sensation. Not a painful burning, but a yearning one. An aching one.

"But can I say something that might sound like the most cliche and quite possibly the stupidest thing you've ever heard?"

Annabeth cracks a small smile. "I haven't already?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and they dance mirthfully, making her a blushing mess. She really did feel ten years younger, but in a good way. A really good way.

"That wasn't even the bulk of what I really wanted to say - I could talk to you right here for the rest of my life, and I still wouldn't be done talking about what I've been through and how that's led me to be the person I am, but I don't want to put all that on you." He takes her other hand and pulls them into his lap, and Annabeth's heart explodes. "But what I will put on you is that when I met you, I… forgot what that monotony felt like for a while. You were something new and unexpected, and for once in my life, I had something to look forward to. And because I didn't know you, I didn't feel like I had to put my guard up. I trusted you so quickly, and I've never done that before. I had a friend in you, if you'd say that same."

Her smart watch lights up with a message from Piper that she doesn't want to open fear that it would expose in front of Percy. He still had both of her hands, so she let the screen fade to black.

"I'd say the same. And while cliche, that was extremely sweet. I don't know how I got so lucky to have met you."

He opens his mouth like he was going to continue, but then he stands, pulling her to her feet before letting her hands go. He presses his lips together. "I don't know either." He's looking toward the floor again. "I think I'm the lucky one."

He's still not looking at her. In a bold moment, she reaches up one hand to cradle his face, tilting his head up. Her breath hitches as she realizes how close they were to each other. She catches herself staring at his mouth.

"I think we're both the lucky ones," she said in a voice close to a whisper. Her heart slammed against her ribcage. "Wouldn't you agree?"

He takes the hand she has placed on his cheek and presses her fingers to his lips, making her whole body flutter. "I agree wholeheartedly. But you have a party you have to get back to."

"Do I?"

"It's practically yours." (Which is what she would tell him about her heart. She didn't, but she thought about it.)

He's right. She did. It takes everything in her to tear herself away from him, but she does. She meets up again with Piper who has a knowing look in her eyes the second she spots Annabeth coming around the corner ("is your hair messed up because of what my dirty mind tells me?" "No, Piper, we just talked like civilized people."), and she sways awkwardly next to her and Jason as random people she's never met come up to her to sing their praises about the building. She eventually hovers over to Leo as he's indulging him on the chips and salsa. She personally eats one too many mini cupcakes and sips on water until her stomach settles. And some point, she finds herself at a table with a 7 month pregnant Juniper, who'd taken a break from waddling around to talk to everyone because her ankles were beginning to swell. Annabeth thought it was so weird how two 28-year-old women were at completely different stages of life; Juniper was married and would have a child before Winter was over, and Annabeth hadn't been on a date since her senior year of college. Was her social clock ticking away? Did she miss her chance when she dumped her cheating ex-boyfriend?

She didn't see Percy for the rest of the night.

Eventually, once the party was reduced to the Night Crew and Grover, she decided it was time to actually leave, and after shoving a few mints into her clutch, she headed toward the door to her Uber; Piper and Jason were going out to dinner, and Annabeth would have rather done anything else than be their third wheel again.

She pushed open the door to the lobby and is almost out of the front doors when a figure appears from the shadows.

It's Percy. But she wasn't scared this time.

"Ah, hey," she says, slowing to a stop and glancing around the room. "I didn't know you were still here."

He shakes his head and his lips lift in the corner. "Oh, yeah. I actually just stayed here and played… Subway Surfers for the last 45 minutes. Grover was my ride."

"You didn't call an Uber?"

"I didn't bring any money."

"Oh, well," Annabeth snaps open her purse and digs out a few bills. "This should cover it."

Percy glances at the money in her hand and immediately dismisses it, like the idea was completely insane. "I… no, it's fine. I'll wait for Grover. You go ahead."

Annabeth purses her lips. "You sure?"

"Absolutely."

Shrugging, she continues to the door as nonchalantly as she could while tugging on her jacket around her. It had gotten significantly colder since the party began. She should've brought a heavier jacket.

And she must've looked hesitant to go out in the cold, because another jacket settles around her arms, two hands lingering on either one of her shoulders. He smells _really_ good.

"You're gonna be cold, Percy," she said without turning around; she was afraid of what she might have done if she had. "I'll be okay."

"What do you think about mistletoe?" he replies instead, his hands still lingering on her. "Do you believe in it?"

She swallows hard. "Why do you ask?"

"Because there's some hanging right above your head."

She looks up, and there it was, dangling above her face. Was it possible for her to blush any harder? She doesn't think she's blushed as much in her entire life as she had tonight. She was sure her face was almost as red as his shirt. Her hands were shaking.

"I… I don't know. I mean," she licks her lips, "the concept was always a little strange. I'm sure it's been used so many times by creeps trying to kiss girls who wouldn't kiss them if their lives depended on it, but the sentiment is sweet. Especially if you like the person underneath it with you."

She couldn't see him, but she could feel him, and she could almost envision a little smirk on his face. "Okay. Can I ask two more questions?"

"My Uber is outside waiting for me."

"They'll be quick, I promise."

His hand trails down her arm to her hand, and her eyes follow slowly. He interlaces their fingers.

"Okay," she says.

"Okay. Will you turn around to look at me?"

She does. She was right about the smirk part. Her watch dings, but the sound is so distant she hardly registers it.

He really was handsome. She couldn't believe how someone so conventionally attractive could remain single for so long, especially when that person was as kind and open as Percy was. Maybe it was a red flag; maybe it was bad luck; maybe the universe had brought them together when they needed someone most, but right now, she didn't stop to think about all of that.

She couldn't think at all.

"When I first saw you here tonight, I couldn't help but immediately notice how absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful you loo-"

"Percy," she cuts in before she even realized she was. "That's really sweet, but I really have to go. If this is all a big ruse to try to convince me to let you kiss me, _please_ just do it already."

The smile that overtook her face was involuntary as his eyes widened in shock, but he recovered quickly. His smile matches her own.

"Luckily for you, that was my second question."

And for once, there wasn't any hesitation before he leaned down to capture her lips with his, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her against his body. The kiss was anything but hesitant - it was everything they'd been wanting to say, it was everything pent up since the first letter was sent, everything she'd ever wanted in a kiss. She loops her arms around his neck, and she let herself not care. His soft lips were persistent against hers, and it felt _good_. She sighed against his mouth and let herself float.

That is, until they were suddenly interrupted.

"Hey, Perce, are you ready to g- oh, what's going on here?"

They quickly break apart and stare at the intruder, and Grover stares at the two culprits that been previously tangled within each other with a look in his eye. Annabeth immediately takes several steps away, readjusting her dress.

"Uh," Percy says, fixing his collar, "I… it's a long story."

"More than just the fact that you were both caught under the mistletoe?"

"Yeah," Annabeth says, looking anywhere but either of the men in front of her. "In fact, it started about three weeks ago when I sent him a letter."

* * *

**the end! remind me to never promise an update by a certain date haha. this took wayyy longer than i thought it would, but it's finally done and we can all more on. i hope you liked it! writer's block is a real bitch, but i got through it.**

**also, literal minutes before i posted this, i found out about the untimely death of kobe bryant and his daughter gigi. posting this almost doesn't feel right - he wasn't only a legend in basketball, but a legend to the world - but i owe it to you guys. be grateful that you're alive today, because tomorrow isn't guaranteed. life isn't guaranteed. hug your friends, hug your family. my heart is broken, but life has to go on. i hope you're all having a good day :)**

**until next time ~ Aja**


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